


Nice Pip-Boy

by JauntyHako



Category: Fallout (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Pip-Boy, Pre-war life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 20:10:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5756623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JauntyHako/pseuds/JauntyHako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having a Pip-Boy made a teenager instantly the coolest guy at the school ever. But there were more uses that the Sole Survivor came to treasure over the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Pip-Boy

On Julian's 17th birthday his parents gifted him with a brand new Pip-Boy 2.3, with so many functions the handbook was almost as long as the Civil Defense PSA's they were forced to watch in class. It seemed there was nothing a Pip-Boy couldn't do and Julian soon became the envy of his school. Girls who rebuffed him before were now eager to sit at his lunch table. The science club practically begged him to let them borrow it for a bit. Half the school looked over his shoulder when he played the latest games in recess and when Mr Roberts took the device away from him because he couldn't tear his eyes away, Julian caught him playing with it under the table. The shelves at the closest Super Duper Mart were stocked with unique cases, colourful wristbands and modules that added a variety of functions. It was better than having a car.

 

In short, the Pip-Boy made Julian's last few months at school heaven on earth. He even got voted prom king in no small part, he suspected, to the computer around his wrist. When he enlisted with the military the thing he looked most forward to was getting the advanced functions unlocked. He was jittery and grinned like an idiot while the tech hooked his Pip-Boy up to the computer and accessed the root system. A few clicks later Julian got his Pip-Boy back and when he pulled it around his wrist it felt heavier somehow, as if the new programs weighed it down.

They allowed him a few minutes to familiarise himself with the system again. He booted it up, noticed immediately the little beret the Vault Boy wore and was tempted to return its perky salute. The main menu was already vastly enhanced. The standard program monitored heart rate, blood pressure and temperature. This one also offered O2 levels, processed blood samples and guided the user through emergency field medical procedures. Julian flipped through a few, half amazed half hoping he'd never need his computer's assistance setting broken bones.

When he was given orders to report to Sergeant Mayes, the Pip-Boy's map showed him reliably across the compound.

“Nice Pip-Boy you've got there.” the sergeant said upon him entering.

Julian saluted, forgot he still had his duffel bag in his hand and smacked it against his head. Mayes pretended not to notice and Julian decided immediately that he liked this man.

“Thank you, sir.” he said with no little pride. “Gift from my parents.”

The sergeant made an appreciative noise.

“Only thing better to give your son going into war would be a suit of power armour. Damn useful these tiny things. Wish I had one when we were stationed in Anchorage. Would have saved me from stepping on that damn mine.”

He patted his leg, or what was left of it. Julian followed the motion with horrified fascination. It wasn't like he'd never seen someone who lost a limb, or more, in the war, but most people at least used rudimentary prosthetics. Seeing his leg just … stop made Julian doubly grateful for the assistance his Pip-Boy would offer.

“Anyways, should get you settled in. You're in barrack 13b, here's your pass card and schedule. If you'll follow me, I'll get you your uniform.”

Mayes led the way while Julian fed the information of his pass card into the computer. He'd fill in the schedule later and make sure to set some reminders.

 

Three months later Julian thought back to Mayes when he stood at the edge of a minefield, heart hammering in his chest and his comrades a decent way off, cheering him on. He wondered if Mayes would have wished for a Pip-Boy if he knew it'd get him an order to clear a path through a minefield.

“Do your best my ass.” Julian muttered to himself as he knelt down and carefully made the first step. “Oh no, nothing to worry about, Private. Just set your Pip-Boy to emit whatever-pulses, Private. The mine will make beeping sounds before blowing you to pieces, Private. Assholes.”

He felt his way across the field, moving as fast as he dared while the sweat ran down his neck even with the cold Alaskan winds. Only few others in his unit had a Pip-Boy of their own. The officers had, but of course you couldn't send them to stake a path through a hastily laid minefield. Nevermind that all the warnings in the world wouldn't help him if he stepped directly on one. Praying to God that the Reds hadn't updated their mines he went forward, cursing that he owned a Pip-Boy.

 

The Reds ambushed them in the middle of the night. The fight was brief but bloody and his unit was forced to retreat further into the snowy mountains. They shook off their pursuers but had no way of getting in contact with command nor could they try and break through the enemy lines by themselves. An abandoned outpost offered shelter but little more. Resources had been brought away or scavenged months ago, leaving only a moth-eaten blanket and some empty crates. They'd been forced to leave both food and water behind. Huddling together for warmth Julian and his comrades waited for an epiphany, a rescue or the end of the war. Neither was likely to come.

On the fourth day Gummy started crying. Hunger gnawed at his stomach. Julian understood, he did, but his helpless blubbering did nothing for his own mood. Eventually, to drown out the noise, he turned on his pip-boy's radio.

They were too far to receive military broadcasts but civilian radio reached them, albeit with a lot of white noise. To the tunes of Cole Porter they sat and waited for friend or enemy to find them.

 

They were rescued, almost a week later, but Julian knew they'd have gone mad if not for the radio reminding them of home. It was around that time that the wrist band finally gave out. One day while he worked out, waiting for his next assignment, the leather tore and sent the Pip-Boy clattering to the ground. He bent to pick it up, but someone beat him to it. He stood, frozen half-bent and arm reached out as the most gorgeous man in the world inspected his Pip-Boy. It had seen better days. He felt weirdly self-conscious about every scratch, every crack and chip.

“Nice Pip-Boy.” the man said appreciatively and handed it back.

Julian took it with shaking hands

“Yeah, um, I get that a lot.” Julian said, pulling it over his wrist and forgetting about the torn band.

It fell to the ground together with Julian's pride. He went to his knees, gathered it up again, wracking his brains for some way to make this situation any less awkward. Curse him for becoming a bumbling idiot when faced with attractive people. He fiddled with the frayed leather, blushing from his neck to the roots of his hair and hoping the sunsets dimming light would hide at least that.

“I'm pretty good with a needle. I could fix that for you, at least until a replacement can be shipped in.” the man said, gifting Julian with a smile full of sparkling white teeth.

“Oh. Um. I don't want to trouble you-”  
“Nonsense. I'll get what I need and meet you back here, okay?”

Julian stood and stared, feeling as weak as he had when hypothermia and lack of food made him delirious. Perhaps that was it. Perhaps he was still in that mountain range, snowed in with his fellow men, hallucinating of meeting an underwear model.   
“Okay.” he said belatedly when the man was already gone.

 

He was real and Julian learned his name was Nate. Nate was a lawyer but why he was in the ass end of nowhere he wouldn't disclose. Internal affairs was all that Julian got out of him. Not that it mattered much. Nate fixed the Pip-Boy's armband and managed to get Julian through an entire conversation, dinner included, until his higher brain functions returned from their vacation and enabled him to talk in full sentences to Nate. Soon they spent every free minute together and when supplies were flown in, among which was a new casing for Julian's Pip-Boy, Nate took his tools and burned their initials into the soft leather.   
When Julian was due for another assignment and Nate asked to borrow the computer he didn't have to think twice, despite the various times having it saved his life. He knew Nate wouldn't ask if it wasn't important and he got that devious glint in his eyes that Julian had come to know as a sign that someone was in deep legal shit.

Whoever it had been when Julian returned he received an honourable discharge, a medal for valor and the deed to a house in Sanctuary Hills, ostensibly to honour his deeds in the war. Months later the atrocities committed at Anchorage flooded the news, giving him vivid nightmares of just what had happened in the basements of the military compound. Nate was usually there to comfort him and when he wasn't Julian traced their initials in the Pip-Boy to keep himself grounded. It was during such a night that he listened to his old logs, one part diary, two parts mission logs. He stopped using it to record his thoughts sometime before he met Nate and had never been particularly diligent with it in the first place. The last entry was not his own.

Open-mouthed he listened to two voices, one of which he recognised being Nate's, arguing loudly. The word Psycho fell more than once and it made Julian shudder. He'd gotten out before its widespread use was approved, but from the sounds of it he'd been lucky. Nate spoke of war crimes, of the Geneva convention, of inhumane treatment of POWs. The other man threatened him, tried to bribe him, but Nate wouldn't have it. Not until Julian's name fell.

“You have been seen together.” the unknown voice said. “Good man. Due for some dangerous assignments. I could get him out. Get you two settled somewhere nice.” And then to add insult to injury he added: “It would be better than the alternative.”

He never told Nate he knew about the bribe. He deleted the logs on his Pip-Boy and told himself he had no right to be offended when secretly he was glad for the decision Nate made. His conscience told him people died and suffered because of it but without the deal Julian would have died like so many others out in Alaska. Instead he was alive, safe and home.

 

Julian's sister offered to carry the baby made possible by Nate and Julian's genes combined with advanced science. She stayed at their house in Sanctuary for the entire duration, pretending to be exasperated at their combined crooning over the unborn child but relishing in it all the same.

They spent weeks building the nursery, arguing over which colour to paint the crib and which toys to buy. Nate insisted on the old picture book passed down from his great-grandmother and while Julian had his reservations about letting his child anywhere near something that showed multiple bite marks of decades of infants nibbling on it, he agreed under the condition that the crib got a rocket mobile.

Every purchase was dutifully recorded with the Pip-Boy, downgraded again to its civilian system and helped a lot keeping their checkbooks balanced over the months. In the last few weeks before the due date Julian couldn't keep his hands still. Having a child always seemed like an impossible dream, between the downed economy and civil unrest. But if there ever was a place fit to raise a child in it was Sanctuary. Nothing could reach them here.

 

Not a year later everything fell to pieces. They reached the vault, scared out of their minds, hands grasping each other tightly, not believing they got away with their lives. Ironically the last thing Julian thought when he entered what he believed to be a decontamination pod was that it was a damn shame he'd forgotten his pip-boy in the bathroom that morning.

 

 

By the time the bombs fell, Julian's pip-boy had been positively ancient. The 3000 model had been all the rage in the months before, but he'd never been tempted to upgrade. His own device had sentimental value as much as it was useful.

But having the new version did turn out to be handy. Vault-Tec issued Pip-Boys had all their functions released, including a way to make bypassing security on terminals much easier. Julian wasn't a computer whiz by any measure but with the Pip-Boy's help he could get into any system without much trouble. It made him wonder sometimes what RobCo planned on doing with these devices in the long run. Not that it mattered now. It wasn't like breaking into old military posts hurt any war efforts.

He started using the journal again, mostly to remind himself of the things people asked him to do, or points of interest he wanted to visit, but also as a way to cope. Talking about it helped, and using the Pip-Boy spared him the need of having to inconvenience anybody else.

“Haven't gone back into the house.” he told the device on the road to Diamond City. It was quiet, only the low music of the radio offsetting Julian's voice.

“Can't bring myself to go in. I keep thinking what if … I don't know. Nate and I once talked about what we'd save if our house was burning. Some things must have survived but what do I hope for? My dress blues that Nate used to like? His ties, the ones with the goofy motives? The photo albums or some of the books or Shaun's toys. Shit, I don't know. I mean, I know. But what are the chances my Pip-Boy has made it over two centuries? Scavengers were there at some point, they'd have taken it with them. I just … it's stupid to even miss that thing. This one is much more effective. It also doesn't glitch out on me whenever I switch between receiving and sending radio signals too quickly. I should just forget about it.”

And he did. Mostly.

 

He went to Diamond City, met Piper, saved Nick. Then on to Goodneighbor. Watched a zombie knife a dude who tried to extort him. That was a fun day. The Pip-Boy monitored his heart rate and gave warnings when it got too slow or too fast. He had to clamp his hand over the speaker to keep everyone from hearing his heart jumping into his throat at the man coming to his defense. He could always say it was because of the murder happening right in front of him. But the accusing beeping of the Pip-Boy had Julian convinced that somehow it knew about his entirely inappropriate arousal.

And then it was Nate all over again. The man introduced himself as Hancock and despite being anything but conventionally attractive, Julian's tongue tied itself into a knot and refused to obey his orders. His eyes were big and loyal like Dogmeat's, but that grin betrayed any innocence they might have held. The ruined skin and missing nose couldn't hide his boyish looks and Julian realised that he was head over heels not a month after Nate died. He dug his fingers into the Pip-Boy's wrist band, felt absurdly like this wouldn't have happened if he had his original one.

He stumbled through something akin to a conversation with Hancock and then made sure to get as far away as possible. So maybe he took the phrase burying his head in the sand a bit too literally. Though to be fair robbing a rich privileged asshole sounded like the perfect way to distract himself from the weirdest crush he'd ever had. The ensuing confrontation with Bobbi could have gone better all in all. It was difficult to concentrate on her flimsy excuses when his entire concentration focused on the thing stuck between some ammo cases and vintage wines. It was his Pip-Boy. He was sure of it, even though he couldn't see the initials and there were a thousand like it of a similar make he'd recognise it anywhere. He returned when Fahrenheit and the guards were gone, snuck in and took the Pip-Boy, cradled it close to his chest and left, hoping Hancock wouldn't notice one item missing.

 

He did notice, but didn't bring it up until months later, when they'd long since stopped being strangers and became something more. He was playing games on Julian's Pip-Boy, sitting in his lap and occasionally snacking on some of the meat Julian roasted over the fire.

“You ever get any use out of that other Pip-Boy you nicked from me?” he asked casually as if Julian's theft was common knowledge.

Julian stilled, looked down on Hancock's bare head and wondered how long he'd been itching to reveal being aware of this little factoid. Knowing Hancock, he was surprised he'd been able to keep it to himself this long.

“I just switched out the wrist guard and transferred some data.”  
“Really? How'd you do that? I could never get it to work.”

He deliberated lying, or at least telling only half-truths but discarded that thought quickly. Hancock deserved the truth.

“The older models have a biometric lock. Only the owner can boot it up.”

“Only- what? You tellin' me …?”  
Instead of answering Julian nodded and tightened his grip around Hancock. He didn't talk much about his life before the war. Confessing even this much to Hancock felt intimate in a way he couldn't describe.

“Holy shit. Could have said something. So, that wrist guard hold some value to you?”

Julian nodded again and turned his Pip-Boy so that Hancock could see the initials, _J+N_ burned into it. Hancock touched them almost reverently as if he understood exactly what they meant.

He traced the worn rim of the leather, touched Julian's wrist in the process. The Pip-Boy helpfully supplied an updated status of his heart rate. Hancock chuckled but didn't stop his gentle carress.

“Don't take this the wrong way.” he said. “But that _N_ kinda looks like an _H_.”

Looking at it from an angle Julian had to admit it did. He found himself not minding in the least.

 

Eventually he reset his old Pip-Boy's biometric scanner. He played with the thought of giving it to Hancock, but eventually handed it to Shaun after adjusting the straps for a child's wrists. Shaun was happy enough and Hancock used Julian's Pip-Boy more than enough to need his own. Now the only thing left to do was try and dissuade Hancock from using its video recording function for inappropriate things.

 

 


End file.
